


Jonathan Toews and the Blue-eyed Fletchinder

by BoyGirlBothNoneImTheUniverse



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pokemon, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-28
Updated: 2014-05-27
Packaged: 2018-01-26 20:35:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1701674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoyGirlBothNoneImTheUniverse/pseuds/BoyGirlBothNoneImTheUniverse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So Patrick pisses off a Ninetales and shit gets real.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jonathan Toews and the Blue-eyed Fletchinder

**Author's Note:**

> POKEMON !!!11!!!1!!
> 
> idk

So Patrick pisses off a Ninetales and shit gets real.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Patrick wishes Tyler had never broken up with him. Patrick wishes that he hadn't raided through his kitchen, drinking any alcohol he could find. Patrick wishes that he had stayed home afterwards, not left their shared apartment. But most of all, Patrick wishes he hadn't gone into forest. He remembers very clearly his muttered curses and slurred speech as he tumbled through the shadowed forest. He felt the pain when he tripped and impacted the ground beneath him, twigs and stones jabbing into his arm harshly. He remembers the angry growls of a pissed off Pokémon, a swift and violent wind falling upon him, the lashes of sound mixing with the growling to create a truly terrifying sound. He had blurrily looked up at a Ninetales, its eyes a menacing blood orange and its teeth sharp and bared.

Hisses had come spilling out of its mouth, coming faster and faster until it was but a rushed muttering of nonsense. It had soon reached its climax, and with an abrupt pause, the Ninetails had stopped to stare at him. Nothing happened for a moment, he recalls, before a blinding white hot pain rushed through him. He had spasmed, twitching and bucking on the forest floor, as the pain quickly traveled across his senses. The last thing he had seen before he passed out was of the Ninetails trotting off in an unknown direction, leaving him alone on the cold ground.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Patrick twitched awake, slowly slipping back into consciousness. His eyesight adjusted faster than he expected it to and he was immediately shocked at how clear everything was. When he was usually hung over his vision was one of the last things that came back to him, a massive headache always taking his vision until it dissipated.

Patrick frowned, as he stretched his limbs, his body sore, but no headache came as he shifted around. He moved to put his hands on the ground so he could push his way up, but instead, he squeaked as yellow tipped black wings came into view, fluttering and giving him no support as he fell forward. He twists quickly after he hits the ground, his heart suddenly speeding up. He looks down at his two-toed talonned feet, his gray belly puffed up with agitation, and almost faints. He stumbles around, his legs shaky as he tries to adjust to his new center of balance. Patrick trips through a bush, crying out softly as a stray branch digs into his feathered side. When he finally clamors his way through the underbrush, his feathers are crooked and he's in full panic mode when he sees a moon lit puddle laying still on the trail in front of him. He waddles over, his wings outstretched as he balances his way to the puddle. He takes in a deep breath and gasps in horror at what he sees.

A small Fletchinder stares back at him, unnatural blue eyes wide and searching as they look up at him. Yellow mask markings shoot out from the back of his eyes, a few tiny feather ruffled and twisted from his panicking. The fiery blood orange of his head and neck is illuminated by the brightly glowing moon above him. He turns to the side to look at his striped black, gray and white tail feathers, wincing as one of the feather twists farther than he's comfortable with.

He gives a tired sigh, confusion and exhaustion hitting him like a train. He limps back over to the bush, his legs finally giving out as he lays in the heart of the branches. He stares at the moon through a small gap in the leaves before he tries to get comfortable. Patrick falls into an uncomfortable and restless sleep.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Patrick stumble once again, one of his talons snagging on a branch, causing Patrick to chirp angrily and hop on one foot. He gives a muffled hoot as he once again falls over, his wings splayed around him, laying limp as he stares up at the canopy of trees around him.

Patrick has been wandering for days now, tripping and wandering through the forest. He'd tried to head home, he had, but in his drunken stupor, he hadn't paid attention to how far in the forest he'd gone, let alone what direction. He finally decided on heading in the direction the Ninetales had gone, hoping he'd catch up with the Pokémon.

He ruffles is already messy feathers, dust clinging to them, making him seem like a rabid Pokémon, and he turns to stand back up. Patrick wonders if maybe he should give flying another try, but then he remembers his failed attempt, getting into the air only to hit his head off a low hanging branch. If he was going to try again, he'd practice in an open place before attempting any kind of forest or tree laden place.

Patrick grimaces as his little belly grumbles in hunger. He shivers at the sound, unused to being hungry and the cold that had descended upon him only yesterday. Patrick knows that his body is telling him that his flame sac is dwindling. He remembers learning about Fletchinder in school, their flame sacs laying in their bellies, giving them their abilities with fire and increased flight speeds. He'd never wondered how the little Pokémon had kept their sac's stoked with flame, but the idea that eating was the thing that gave them their energy was no surprise. He shifted as he continued walking, twisted feathers, sore wings, and his throbbing stomach making his progress slow.

He's about to make a left turn on the path he was using when he sees the bush in front of him shake. Patrick freezes, unsure of what to do. He wasn't a Pokémon trainer. Patrick worked at the local General store and in his free time, took extra classes to learn about the study of Pokémon. He had moved around a lot with his family and he'd never felt safe enough leaving his home to be able to go on any Pokémon journey. Patrick didn't have the experience of a trainer, let alone a Pokémon, if whatever was in the bush tried to get him to fight it.

With an abrupt high laugh and quick streak, an Aipom pops out of the bush. It dances around happily, grinning at Patrick, and it waves at him with its tail. Patrick blinks at it, raising one of his wings slowly to wave back. The Aipom just grins at him some more before it stops, finally taking in Patrick's appearance. Patrick screams when he's suddenly grabbed by the Aipom's tail. Before he can try and fight the grip, they're flying through the forest, the Aipom jumping from the ground to branches and back to the ground as it makes its way to an unknown destination.

Patrick is dropped harshly into some body of water, the liquid pouring into his mouth and causing him to choke. He screams for help, but the water just bubbles around him as he sinks, his heart beating in a way he hasn't felt before. He's confused to realize that the thought of drowning does scare him, but it's the idea of all this water around him that's truly scary. It's causing his flame sac to ache horribly in his stomach, panic gripping him. Patrick wants to cry, wants someone to tell his family that he's sorry, when the Aipom's tail pushes through the surface of the water, bringing him up and away from his almost death-bed.

Patrick gurgles as the Aipom pats him on the head, it's chuckles making him angrier and angrier by the second.

"Silly, Fletch'!" the Aipom says happily, it's voice feminine. "You really think I'd let you drown? Nonsense! Just helping you pretty up those feathers of yours. Don't want any trainers who come by thinking you're rabid!"

It hadn't occurred to Patrick that now that he was a Pokémon, he would understand what other Pokémon were saying. He's left speechless as the Aipom goes about fixing his ruffled feathers, slowly the background pain of discomfort was going away as each feather was straightened and put into place.

"Thanks," he finally mutters, shaking out slightly to get off some excess water.

"It was my pleasure!" the female Aipom replied. "My name's Abby, by the way."

"Hi Abby," Patrick says, looking her in the eye. "My name's Patrick."

"So, Patrick, what's a Fletchinder doing all they way in Chicago?" Abby asks, stalking over to a fallen log and taking a seat.

"Chicago?" Patrick asked, shocked. "I'm in Chicago?"

"You didn't know?" Abby asked, blinking. "Chicago's just at the end of the forest; to the North."

"I was in Buffalo," Patrick says, swallowing thickly. "And then... just left..." Patrick trailed off, wondering how he managed to walk as far as he did.

"Oh," Abby says sadly. "Your trainer left you? That's why you looked so dirty! Poor thing, you probably haven't had to take care of yourself for such a long time. Did they hatch you?"

"I..." Patrick paused. There was a good possibility that Abby would be his only way of survival. He needed to get to Chicago, get to civilization, if he ever wanted to possibly find out exactly what that Ninetales had done to him. Abby was obviously kind, obviously willing to help, and she acted like she's been around people before, so maybe, just maybe, she could be his ticket to being human again. "Yeah," Patrick says eventually, willing as much sadness and frustration as he could into his voice. "He, uh, he didn't believe in me. He thought I was a mistake. That I couldn't do anything," Patrick said, feeling his stomach twist as the bitterness of his recent break up filled him.

"Oh, Patrick," Abby says, pity in her eyes. "You poor Pokémon. Well, then we'll just have to find you a new trainer. A better trainer!"

"Do you know any trainers?" Patrick asked, hope filling him.

"Well, no," Abby says awkwardly, shifting in her seat, "But I go into Chicago all the time. I don't really remember where I was born; but, I do remember it being a city! I've grown accustomed to watching trainers so they don't see me. I can help you find someone to take care of you."

"Really? You'd do that for me?" Patrick asked, batting his eyes.

"Of course! You're just a child, after all."

"Child?" Patrick sputtered. "I'll have you know I'm-"

"Yes, yes, you're in your second evolution," Abby says, chuckling. "But that barely makes you over 17."

Patrick is almost positive that a Fletchinder can be as old as level 34 before it evolves, but he supposes that, once again, his size is working against him. He shrugs, dropping the topic. He doesn't know what level he is, only his actual human age, so he instead stretches his wings.

"Do you know of any clearings around here? Some place I can stretch my wings?"

"Sure do!" Abby says, grinning. "Can you keep up with me or do you want another ride?"

Before Patrick can reply, Abby's tail is wrapped around him and they're off, Abby giggling at Patrick's outraged shouts.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Patrick grumbled angrily at Abby as he picked himself up from his sprawled position on the ground. It was his second day with Abby, their second day in the clearing Abby had taken him to, and Patrick had yet to be able to fly. He jumped from the ground, beating his wings as hard as he could, before he's either lose balance or he would just stop somehow, his wings no longer able to work for him. Abby had been laughing harder and harder after each of Patrick's attempts.

"How did you evolve without knowing how to fly?" Abby gasped out in between laughs.

"I'm determined," Patrick says, chirping in pain when he twists one of his wings. It causes him to lose focus and he is once again landing on the ground with a thud. Abby was just coming down from her previous fit of laughter, and upon seeing Patrick fail once again, she is spurned into another one.

"You're not helping," Patrick mumbles angrily.

"I'm not going to be much help either," Abby says amusedly. "I'm an Aipom. I don't have wings, nor do I know how to use them."

Patrick huffed, his feathers a ruffled and bunched up mess. "Well, do you know anybody who does?"

Abby paused for a moment. "Well," she replied cautiously. "There is someone..."

"Really?" Patrick asked, excited at the prospect. "Who?"

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sharpy is an awful Pokémon. A Swanna that looked particularly handsome, if Patrick had to be honest, he was given the name Sharpy for his sharp eyesight and his amazing Aerial Ace move, something he had since perfected. Abby was smitten with him, even Patrick could tell that, and the way that Sharpy pranced around, primping his feathers, was an obvious sign of his interest in Abby.

"Your balance is all wrong," Sharpy insists after he sees Patrick try and take flight. "I don't even understand how you could evolve without knowing how to fly."

"He's determined," Abby replies on his behalf, ogling Sharpy from her dangling position in a tree.

Patrick says nothing, his mind focused as he beats his wings harshly, willing himself to get off the ground.

"You're trying to hard," Sharpy says, shaking his head as Patrick tries and fails to even pull himself up into the air. "You're probably tired."

"We've been traveling for two whole days," Abby simpers from up in her tree. "We're both hungry and tired."

"Well, I wouldn't want you to be uncomfortable," Sharpy says, all of his attention on Abby. "There's plenty of food back at the gym. We can go there and you two can rest after eating something."

"Gym?" Patrick asks.

"The Blackhawks Gym," Sharpy replies. "My trainer is the gym leader. I bring strays like you two home all the time, he won't even notice."

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------

He notices.

Patrick is alone in the kitchen, pecking at a sweet tasting berry, its name escaping him for the moment, when a man walks into the room. He's shirtless, only wearing a tight pair of Pidgeotto boxers, a sight Patrick would be otherwise welcome to if he wasn't currently a Pokémon. His brown hair is short, though there's enough of it for it to stick up at awkward angles. The guy is yawning as he scratches his stomach, eyes closed so he doesn't immediately notice Patrick staring at him. Patrick is admiring the view, you have to appreciate the work the guy must do to be in that kind of shape.

The guy finally stops yawning and opens his eyes, immediate making eye contact with Patrick. His eyes are brown, Patrick thinks off-handedly, more absorbed with the fact that they're as dead as shark eyes, staring at him like the guy is looking into his soul.

"Wha-" The guy mumbles, squinting at Patrick. "Who the fuck are you?"

Patrick would be mildly offended, but the guy is the one talking to a Pokémon like he'll get an actual answer, so Patrick just chirps brightly, just to see what the guy will do.

He comes after Patrick with a Doduo.

_He comes after Patrick with a Doduo._

Patrick screams as loud as his Pokémon form will let him, but it mostly sounds like a high-pitched screeching that causes his ears to ring.

He scuffling down a hall, turning the corner, when he smacks into Abby.

"Patrick, what-"

"Help me!" he caws, flapping around in panic as he goes to hide behind a bewildered Sharpy.

"What's going on?" Sharpy asks.

"You shouldn't have left me alone," Patrick insists, shaking.

The Doduo rounds the corner, laughing as they almost lose their balance. They stop suddenly, something Patrick knows would give him whiplash, to give an enthusiastic hello to Sharpy.

"He-"

"-llo," the Doduo says happily.

"Hey, Duncs. Seabs,"Sharpy says, "there a reason you're chasing down poor Patrick?"

"Poor Patrick," one head whispers, cackling at the alliteration, while the other says, "Jonny found him in the kitchen, thought he was rabid. He yours?"

"Rabid?!" Patrick squeaks, offended. He wasn't exactly clean, that much was true, but he was far from rabid! He's ignored though, everybody's attention on a chuckling Sharpy.

"Yeah, I guess he's with me," Sharpy says, his eyes full of amusement. "I'm trying to teach the little Fletch' how to fly."

"He's already a Fletchinder an-"

"-d he doesn't know how to fly?"

"How many Pokémon are going to ask me that?" Patrick inquires in a huff, his shaking finally subsiding as the Pokémon makes no move to come after him.

"Until you give us an actual answer," Abby supplies helpfully, finally speaking up.

Before anyone else can say anything, the man, Jonny, Patrick remembers one of the heads calling him, rounds the corner. He's still in boxers and his face is flushed from chasing after Patrick and the Doduo.

"Are you kidding me?" he asks in between breaths, bending over slightly. "All that chasing and you didn't even do anything to him."

Duncs and Seabs trill happily, both winking at Patrick as Jonny marches over to them. He scowls at the Twin Bird Pokémon, raising his hand, revealing a Poké Ball Patrick hadn't noticed before. It opens, the red beam of light Patrick is only familiar with through TV comes shooting out and the Doduo glows red before it's returned to its Poké Ball.

"So," Jonny starts, staring down at them, "this is your doing, huh, Sharpy?"

Sharpy shrills cheerfully, ruffling his curved wings.

And that is how Patrick meets Jonathan Toews (he doesn't count Jonny making Duncs and Seabs chase after him; that would make the story far less romantic).

**Author's Note:**

> So Patrick pisses off a Ninetales and shit gets real.
> 
> Patrick - Fletchinder  
> Abby - Aipom  
> Duncs - Doduo head #1  
> Seabs - Doduo head #2  
> Sharpy - Swanna
> 
> Because why would I work on fic I said would be done months ago when I can write entirely new fic that isn't even planned out.
> 
> I'm fuckyoucanada on tumblr, because, like, fuck you, Canada.


End file.
